No Place Like Home
by Turquoise Sun
Summary: An attempt to make things right goes all wrong; interacting with a place of power has affected Hawke in unexplainable ways and her companions scramble for a solution. K!meme fill repost, no smut. May change rating once completed.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure it's up here?"

Hawke leaned on her staff heavily, letting her breath even out from the ridiculous climb up Sundermount that she and her party were forced to endure.

"Absolutely," Merrill said, "The rift in the Fade should be just around the bend now; I could feel it the last time we were here."

"Good," Anders chimed in from where he stood, "The sooner we can close it, the better. This may even solve some of Kirkwall's problems with blood magic."

Merrill frowned at him.

Hawke turned to their last companion Varric and asked, "Do you still have the lyrium we brought?"

"All right here," he replied, patting his stuffed jacket for emphasis.

"Alright," she said, "Let's keep moving."

They continued along the twisting path with Merrill in the lead, following one by one until they came to a cave. The opening was wide and smooth, and fog poured out from the inside, stopping only a few feet from the entrance. Varric handed a very large lyrium bottles to each of the mages. They looked at each other and downed their lyrium at the same time, then turned and disappeared into the mist of the cave, leaving the glass with the dwarf. Inside, the sensation of the Fade was oppressive and the lyrium in them left an obnoxious buzzing in the mages' brains. They spread out, Hawke towards the center, Anders far off to the left of her, and Merrill over to the right. Together, they reached out to the Fade and attempted to close the Veil.

Outside the cave, Varric took a seat a few steps back from the entrance, next to the ledge. He pulled Bianca over his shoulder and began to inspect the crossbow, his eyes flickering between his weapon, the cave, and the path the whole time. For a while, nothing happened, and he pulled out a rag to wipe down his weapon. Eventually, the fog began to thin out and, after his long languid strokes came to an end, fade completely.

Magic thrummed in the cavern as the mages reached and reached to close the Veil. No matter how much they pulled, it wouldn't budge. Their heads began to ache violently as they pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled. Their skin tingled and the cavern was practically screaming. Then, the three made a final push and the Fade pulsed, knocking all of their holds.

When Anders came to, the first thing he noticed was that he still had a massive headache. Then he noticed that the fog was gone, and immediately after that the sense of magic was not as strong as it was when they began. He stood up, holding his head and grimacing.

"Well," Anders announced, "That didn't go according to plan."

"That was incredible," Merrill breathed from her end of the cavern, "It's like the Veil was being held open! How did they do that? Someone had to do that." Suddenly she gasped and let out, "Creators!"

Anders looked over towards Merrill, but his vision cut off when he saw in the center of the cavern sat Hawke, her legs drawn in and crossed at the ankles, wearing only a silver collar around her neck.

"Definitely not according to plan," he muttered under his breath before he averted his eyes to the floor by her feet. Merrill ran up to her and kneeled beside the naked woman while Anders removed his coat and draped it over Hawke's shoulders.

"I've never seen one of those before," the elven mage said, looking at the collar, "Why would the ritual take your clothes away?"

"How are you so perky?" Anders groaned.

"I don't know," Merrill replied airily, "I think my body is still reacting to all of that lyrium. We should come back tomorrow! There must be some powerful old magic hidden in this cave! Oh, and the history! Just how old is this magic? It could be from Arlathan - maybe before! We-"

"Merrill," he raised a hand, his eyes glued shut, "Not now. I have the equivalent of a three-day hangover, at least, and I doubt you'll be much better soon enough. Let's all head back to Kirkwall and get some rest."

Anders helped Hawke up and Merrill stood, then the three of them left the cave. When they emerged, Varric stood from his rock and slung his crossbow along his back. The dwarf looked at Hawke and raised an eyebrow, but Anders waved him off. Varric shrugged and got in line with the other three as they began their return to the City of Chains. Along the way, Varric noticed Hawke's eyes wandered all over the place - from taking in the scenery to unsure glances at the three of them.

The sun had set hours ago by the time they returned to Kirkwall. They walked Hawke back to her estate first and parted ways at the door to her estate, then continued to their respective homes.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Fenris arrived at the Amell estate, knocking briskly on the door. Not long before, Varric came by his decaying mansion with the moderately ominous news that Hawke "seemed off." The elf quickly left at that.

The door opened.

"Ah, welcome serah," greeted Bodhan, opening the door wider to let him inside, "It's a fine morning to be out, isn't it?"

Fenris took a step inside and asked, "Where is Hawke?"

"She's still upstairs in her room," the dwarf respectfully replied, "I wager that her last adventure was quite taxing; though I'm sure she would welcome your company."

With a quick 'thank you,' the elf crossed the foyer and bounded up the stairs to her room. He gave a few short knocks on her door to alert her of company before opening it and slipping inside her room. She sat on the bed, her body curled up. Dark and red lines ran under her eyes, which seemed to brighten the moment he entered the room.

"You have not slept," he pointed out. She watched him cross the distance from the doorway to her side and sat down at the edge of the bed.

"I was not sure he would come," she responded, "Or what would happen, really. Everything has been so strange lately."

He froze.

"He?" he repeated, the word sharp as a dagger.

Her eyebrows knotted together at his expression, and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Why don't you tell me, Hawke?" he spat, standing abruptly.

"Fenris, why are you acting like this?" she asked, exasperated.

"Why? Why?" he yelled, "You don't think I would be upset about this? Waiting up _all night_ for _another man_?"

She blinked and said, "...There is so much wrong with that I don't even know where to start."

"Enlighten me," he growled.

"_Venhedis_, Fenris, you're acting like we're lovers!" she cried out.

"I apologize for believing we were," he snarled before turning on his heel and marching back towards the door. He was a few steps from the handle when she ran in front of him, barring his exit.

"Blazes, Fenris, **what** is going **on**?" she announced.

"Get out of my way, Hawke," he said, jaw tight.

"That's the second time you called me that," she said, "What does that even _mean_?"

"I am in no mood for games, Hawke!" he said.

"Games?" she repeated angrily, "_I'm_ playing games? You're the one who marched in here like you own the place and march out like you own me!"

"Were all those years waiting just to see how long it would take before I would finally come crawling back? Danarius is dead, and now you are tired of his _pet_?" he accused, "I thought you were different!"

"He is de-?" she cut off the question with a pause and slowly raised a hand to her head and rubbed her temples. She took a deep breath and said softly to herself, "That's it. I'm in the Fade. Some demon has ensnared me and now I'm stuck in some sort of dream."

"As lovely as I'm sure this dream is," she said to him, "I don't fancy becoming an abomination, or letting my body waste away in the real world. So, _dream-Fenris_, are you the one in charge or should I look elsewhere?"

"And now you accuse me of being a demon?" he stated.

"I doubt you're a spirit of Faith," she shot back.

There was a knock on the door.

The door cracked open and Bodhan's voice spoke from behind it, "I hope I am not intruding, messeres, but I heard you were awake. Would you like something for breakfast?"

"You don't have to wait on me," Hawke replied in the direction of the door.

"And as I have said before, it is both my honor and pleasure to serve you, and not just for what you've done for my boy," the dwarf replied.

"I'm fine, I don't need anything!" she insisted.

There was a pause from the other side of the door and then he said, "Perhaps I'll return later with an early lunch, then, shall I?" The door clicked shut, and the two were alone once again. Fenris turned back and sat down slowly at the edge of the bed while she watched him.

"What happened to you up on that mountain?" he asked, looking up at her, his anger down to a simmer.

She shrugged and said, "You should probably ask the mages that brought me here."

"I will not inquire the blood mage and the abomination when you were present," he scowled.

"You can drop the act now," she said in an annoyed tone.

"Why do you think this is a dream?" he asked.

"Well, let's see," she brought up a hand and counted as she spoke, "I'm apparently in the Free Marches, I'm a guest in a dwarf's mansion who doesn't have any servants and practically dotes upon me, Master is dead, Fenris is my lover, I have some sort of nickname after a bird of prey-"

"What?" he cut in.

She caught his expression and huffed, "Stop being so bloody convincing." He stared at her while she glared in return, the two absolutely still beyond breathing. Then Fenris stood from the bed.

"I need to go," he muttered before hurrying across the room and shutting the door behind him.

As he ran down the stairs, Bodhan called to him, "Is something wrong, messere?"

"Very," he replied shortly before cutting around a corner. Fenris threw open the cellar door and bound into the darkness, running as fast as he could through the near-maze. At the end, he burst through the door to Darktown, stumbling over the ladder and almost falling on his face in the process. Regaining his footing, he tossed himself into the closed clinic. He passed the few inpatients and went to the back where Anders' sleeping quarters were, unceremoniously ripping open the sheet that acted as a barrier between his room and the rest of the clinic.

"Mage!" he shouted. On the bed, Anders pulled a pillow over his head.

"Whatever you're about to accuse me of, it can wait," he grumbled.

"No, it can't," the elf replied tersely, "It's Hawke."

"Just let her get some rest and she'll be fine," the mage mumbled half into his pillow.

"She thinks she's a slave!" At first, Anders didn't respond or even move. Then slowly he pushed himself up from the rickety bed into a sitting position.

"What?" the mage let out.

"You heard what I said," the elf said, "Come see for yourself if you doubt me."

Anders stared at him for a little longer, then lept to his feet, shoving his boots on in the process. He reached for his coat, only belatedly realizing he didn't have it, and tied his hair back before heading out of his room. Fenris followed him out of the clinic, up into the cellars, and further up into the estate, taking two steps at a time when they could. When they reached Hawke's room, Anders didn't even give the courtesy of knocking. She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing the fire, turning her gaze when the door opened.

"So you've brought reinforcements," she deadpanned with a dark gaze.

"She also believes she is trapped in the Fade," Fenris supplied while Anders stepped towards her. The mage kneeled in front of her and took in the sight of her. The bags under her eyes were prominent and her skin looked like it hadn't seen the sun in weeks. The thick silver collar still sat just above her collarbone, and now that he had a good look at it he could see intricate and angular symbols carved into the metal, overlapping each other so he couldn't make out what might have been individual and what might have been a continuation, looping around the whole length of the item.

"You still haven't taken that thing off?" Anders asked.

She didn't respond, but her jaw tightened slightly.

He reached to touch the collar and her entire body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Noticing, the healer paused, hand floating a few inches away from the base of her neck.

"Do you mind?" he asked. She didn't say anything, but watched with careful eyes.

He resumed the approach slowly and deliberately. The metal was unremarkable as far as he could tell, appearing no more complicated than silver should be. A slight sheen was left behind from the oil of his fingers on the soft metal as he followed the collar in search of a way to remove it. There was no break, no clip, no hook or chain to indicate its removal - just smooth, slightly tarnished silver.

"Well, it doesn't feel magical," he observed aloud, "How do you take it off?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't wear it," she snapped.

"Good point," Anders said. Fenris' brows, however, furrowed slightly at her slight choice of words. The scruffy mage went on to place two fingers on her pulse. Once he was satisfied, he brought a raised pointing finger up and moved his arm slowly to the left.

"I don't need an examination," Hawke huffed.

"Humor me," he replied.

While he attempted to continue his check-up, she proved to be unresponsive, only glaring at him through the entire process. Finally he gave up and stood with a stretch.

"Well the most obvious thing is that you need sleep," he offered, "Afterwards, we'll have Sandal take a look at your curious jewelry. I'll make you an herbal tea to help you get some rest and leave some extra ingredients with Bodhan." He left the room, passing Fenris by the door, as she glared holes into the floor where the healer previously sat. Long, silent minutes stretched in stillness until Anders returned with a hot cup of his remedy in hand and offered it to Hawke. She glanced at the fine porcelain cup but otherwise did not regard it nor its carrier.

"Come on," he insisted, "you need to keep your strength up."

"Just let me go," she gritted out.

"Don't be like that," he brought the cup a little forward, "Here."

Her glare hardened, and she hissed through tight muscles and narrowed teeth, "I - will - not - break!"

He sighed and put down the cup near the vase by her bed and reached a hand to her head. She stiffened again at the approach but did not budge while he rested his palm against her forehead, fingers embracing her skull. An instant later, her eyes fell shut and her suddenly loose body flopped to the side, crashing into the mattress and pillows. Anders pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a sharp breath.

"I _really_ did not want to do that," the mage muttered.

"Are you sure this will work?" Fenris asked, stepping toward the bed.

"I assume you mean taking the collar off," Anders responded, "Honestly, no, but I don't have a lot of ideas at the moment." He looked at Fenris and continued, "There was something strange about that cave we went to. I think Merrill and I should go back up there in the next few days with one or two others and see what we can find."

Fenris grunted.

Anders lifted Hawke's dangling legs and shifted them onto the bed, and said, "I'm going to rest, myself. I'll have Bodhan send for me next time she wakes up." With that, he picked up the tea he had left on the floor and exited the room.

Fenris looked at his lover in the morning glow. Faint lines of worry and stress touched her where they shouldn't have, and the lack of color in her cheeks disturbed him. He gingerly reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, careful to make sure his gauntlet didn't touch her skin, a grey strand flashing itself before disappearing back beneath the rest of her hair. After that, he tenderly lifted the blankets from around and beneath her and draped them over her form. After smoothing out the cloth, he lingered a few moments more watching her breath evenly in deep slumber, he stepped back towards the door and left the room silently.


	3. Chapter 3

When she next awoke, she was alone in that same room she had been brought to. She felt groggy and sluggish, opening her heavy eyelids to soft golden light. She found it harder to tell herself that it wasn't real; it _felt_ real and it felt right and it felt _wrong_.

Part of her would rather go back to where things made sense. Not to say she enjoyed waiting in Master's chambers every night, or that she knew what Master wanted or what he was thinking, but expectations were clear - even when she fought against them.

But another part of her didn't want to leave. Here, she was cared for; here, people spoke to her with familiarity; here, Master's body guard, the elf who always felt like a piece of her own puzzle, was an intimate aspect of her life; here, she had a _name_. Despite the gaping hole on her memories, everything _fit_ in a way she couldn't explain.

Perhaps that was why she couldn't escape; she didn't want to - not really.

She spread her fingers against the soft maroon fabric beneath her, enjoying the feel of the bizarrely familiar bed. Everything in this dream was too real; the sensations were too solid, too consistent; the emotions were too strong, too up-front.

Perhaps this was the real world. Perhaps she had just woken up from being trapped the Fade. It would explain a few things - the familiarity for one. Perhaps she had been trapped by a demon these past few months who was devouring her memories to fuel its power, so these other mages had to go to a place of power to bring her back. But her collar was real, still ensnaring her neck like an anaconda.

Besides all of that, none of the demons seemed to fit this kind of dream. The two most likely suspects, Desire and Sloth, would not have gone to such lengths to make her prison believable. Plus, once she had called out the demon, it should have revealed itself.

There was another idea that she didn't like to entertain: perhaps this wasn't the doing of a demon, but her master. Perhaps he crafted a fantasy life for her that held some similarities to the gaping hole in her mind to lull her into a sense of security and eventually break her. She wasn't sure where to place the possibility of this, as although Master was clever and crafty he was also cocksure and much more likely to believe that he wouldn't have to go through such extreme measures to cut her down.

A soft knock sounded from the door. She didn't move. After a few moments, the door opened and light padded footsteps crossed the room. The middle aged dwarf with a brown hair and beard came up by the side of her bed.

"Ah, so you're awake," the dwarf observed, "You slept the whole day away, messere; you must have been absolutely exhausted. Are you feeling alright?"

Her tired eyes gazed at the dwarf, then after a few moments, she relented with, "Better. I think."

He gave a soft smile to her then and said, "Very good. I know you can take care of yourself, but I admit, you worry me when you go out on your excursions. I'm sure you're famished, so I'll just get some fruit together while I prepare something more substantial. Take care of yourself, milady." With that, he gave a short bow. As he turned around to leave the room, she sat up in the bed with a disbelieving look on her face, but she didn't stop his departure.

That last word lingered in the air, incapable of penetrating beneath her skin. Minutes passed and she was unable to move from her spot. When the dwarf finally returned, he had a large silver tray filled with grapes, blackberries, elderberries, and strawberries, each sorted into silver dishes with delicate floral embellishments crafted along the rims.

"And here you are," he said, placing the tray on the bed before her feet, "Summer's finest. Your healer companion Anders also asked me to let him know when you woke up. I just sent my boy down to his clinic to let him know. Is there anything else you need?"

She was too dumbfounded to speak, so she opted to simply shake her head.

"Very well, messere," he said, "Take your time and let me know when you would like your bath." With that, he left the room. For a few moments she gazed at the fruit left for her; Master may have treated her well compared to the other slaves, but a silver platter just for her was something new. The idea brushing against her skin now, probing her, was that she wasn't a noble's guest but a _noble_ - with servants!

But still there was a small nudge in the back of her mind telling her that this, too, was appropriate, even if the rest of her mind couldn't wrap around the concept.

Though she couldn't decide if this was a dream or real, the sudden pang of an empty stomach she felt was surely real enough. She grabbed a handful of blackberries and shoved them in her mouth, chewing only a few times before swallowing as much as she could, then reaching out to stuff some elderberries in her mouth. It wasn't until she finished the grapes and half of the rest of the fruit when she started to slow down and gradually enjoy the food she was brought.

By the time Anders came to her room, the dishes had been long since emptied and she had resorted to wiping the inside of the bowls and licking the remaining juices off her fingers.

"Well, you certainly look better," he said with an amused smile, taking a seat down further from her on the edge of the bed, "It's a wonder what sleep can do for the body, really. If you're feeling well enough, I recommend a walk outside next."

There were a few moments of silence between them as she debated in her mind how to approach her situation.

"Anders?" she finally asked for clarification and he waited with an interested look in his eye.

"Fenris referred to the two mages who brought me here as 'abomination' and 'blood mage.' Which are you?" she asked.

His eyes got wide like saucers and he managed out, "You... don't remember? Hawke, we've known each other for years!"

"I don't recall ever meeting you," she responded carefully.

"Maker," he breathed, "What about the others? Merrill? Varric, Isabela, Sebastian? Aveline?" She shook her head in response.

At that moment, there was a call from the door of, "Pie!" A blond dwarf with pale blue eyes and a dopey expression walked into the room with a fresh tray filled with scones, sausages, and bacon. He stopped a foot in the door and stared directly at her, his gaze suddenly shifting as if he was watching her soul breathe.

"Wrong," the dwarf said in a haunting voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes, Sandal, something is wrong with Hawke," Anders said patiently, "Do you mind taking a look at this collar?"

The dwarf stepped forward again until he reached a space beside the bed between Anders and herself. The expression he wore became both sad and slightly horrified when he saw the silver around her neck.

"Bad enchantment," he whispered.

"Do you think you could do something with it?" Anders asked.

Sandal shook his head.

"Well that's not the answer I was hoping for," the healer muttered, then asked, "Any idea how to get it off then?"

Sandal looked at the mage and said, "Not enchantment." Without another word, he swapped the new tray with the one on the bed and left through the door, Anders and she watching as he did.

Anders turned his gaze back to her, "I was hoping he would have been a bit more helpful. I suppose I'll have to study it - maybe get some of the others to look at it too and see what we can find. In the meantime, I would like to examine you."

"I just had an examination three days ago; I don't need one!" she insisted.

"I just want to be sure that what happened in the cave didn't leave any other ill effects," he pressed gently.

She drew her legs in on herself and said, greatly irked, "I don't need one!"

"A physical then," he offered, "Nothing invasive, and if you're really uncomfortable, I can wait a few days."

The two stared at each other for a few more moments, her eyes with steel and his with patience. When it became apparent to him that she would not be humoring him anytime soon, he sighed and stood from the bed.

"Take some time then and come by my clinic when you're ready; or have Bodhan send for me," he said, "I'm going to go see the others, then back to the sewers. Take care of yourself, Hawke." With a short wave, he turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him.

After leaving the Amell estate, Anders went to Lowtown and stopped by the Hanged Man, updating Isabela and Varric. Shortly afterwards, he took a stop by the Alienage and knocked on Merrill's door, but the elf not only refused to answer it, she had locked it. Not that he could blame her; he still wanted to just crawl in a hole until his headache went away. He finished his trek to the clinic, lit the lantern, and walked inside.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hawke" stood in front of the door leading out of her room. Lightly, she touched the collar around her neck, barely tracing a slight section of the engravings that tied her. Letting her arm fall, she steeled herself. Deliberately, she took a few steps forward so she was just outside the doorway and paused. Then she took one more step. And then another. When she crossed her way to the rail, she waited.

Nothing.

Letting out a deep sigh, the edge of her nerves fled. Looking around, she took in the mansion around her - narrow windows reaching floor to ceiling on her left, a writing desk below her, a chandelier above. She walked towards the stairs, fingers trailing the rail, and chose at that moment to wander the place, given her newfound freedom. Halls and rooms brought a soundless welcome as she explored. Fireplaces and furniture whispered of ghosts while the walls echoed with a life long lost.

She eventually found her way to what she assumed was supposed to be the garden in the back. Leading from the door was a narrow pebble path that curved and bent until it reached the high wall a few yards away. There was a simple fountain depicting a miniature mermaid holding her upper body out of the bowl, hands gripping the rim, and throwing her head back, a stream of water shooting from her mouth and into the basin behind her. A tree stood lonesome in a corner and ivy crawled up the walls on all four sides. Well trimmed, robustly green grass filled the garden.

She took a seat in the grass and looked up to the sky, letting the sun rays embrace her pale face, feeling less like a trapped animal, just breathing, letting nature fill her lungs and caress her skin and brush her legs and fingers, uncaring if time froze or passed or if it even existed anymore.

"There you are, messere," Bodhan's voice called from the doorway, "Two of your companions have come to visit: Varric and Isabela. Shall I send them here?"

She nodded.

"Very well, messere," he said, "I shall return momentarily with your guests." She was left alone for a while after that. Then two people emerged from the garden door - a blond dwarf whom she remembered from the cave, and a dark woman with exaggerated curves and an abundance of skin showing. The dwarf raised his hand briefly in greeting.

"Blondie gave us an update on what's going on - Anders, I mean. Varric Tethras," he said with a slight bow.

"And Isabela," the woman beside him greeted. The two sat down beside her.

After a few moments of silence, Isabela piped up, "So you really don't remember anything? Not even a little?"

"I have memories," she replied carefully, "however they do not seem to... align with my current experiences."

"I've gotta ask: what is it like?" Varric said.

Hawke debated her words and finally chose, "Surreal."

They chatted for several minutes, the two rogues doing a majority of the talking, with several fruitless attempts to jog Hawke's memory.

Eventually Varric asked while pointing to her neck, "So there's no way to take that off?"

Hawke shrugged and said, "If there is, I don't know it."

"Do you mind if we try our hand at it? I happen to be very good at getting things off," Isabela said with a suggestive smirk. Hawke resisted the urge to smack her.

Varric laughed and said, "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

"Oh, come now, don't be so tight-lipped," Isabela said, referring to the other woman's expression, "I'm only teasing."

"You might as well let her give it a shot," the dwarf said, "It's not like you've got anything to lose. And if Rivaini can't, then I might be able to."

Hawke thought for a moment before she nodded.

Isabela shifted her weight to her knees and crouched toward her, pulling out some lockpicks from her boots. First, she tested the metal, tapping it lightly as she made her way around. Then she traced around and within the ridges, then the rims. She tinkered and tapped and scratched, even slipping a piece of parchment in between her neck and collar, until the woman was ready to just rip the thing off. Then Varric took his turn, but no matter his efforts it stayed where it was.

"Balls," Isabela said, "How hard can this be? It's just bloody silver!" She pulled out one of her daggers and instructed, "Just sit still."

"Shit, uh, Rivaini-"

But Isabela's blade dragged down through the soft metal, cutting Varric off, a sliver of Hawke's even paler neck shimmering through the space. The newly formed edges wiggled almost imperceptibly, then warped and bent to close the tiny gap, merging and leaving behind no trace of the pirate's attempts. It took a second for Isabela to register that it was once again smooth and plain-looking, slightly tarnished and engraved.

"By the Void, what was that?" Isabela exclaimed.

As Hawke reached down to touch her neck, feeling the unbroken metal, her eyes widened.

After a few moments, Varric asked, "Judging by the look on your face, that wasn't supposed to happen."

"I don't know," she admitted, "It's not as if I've had much opportunity to test it."

"Good point," Varric muttered with a thoughtful frown.

"Can you still use your magic?" Isabela inquired.

Hawke's eyebrows furrowed.

"It's just - I've seen mage shackles once; nothing like this though," the pirate clarified, "But if that's what it is, then at least we'll be starting somewhere."

Hawke's brows eased slightly, but she kept a mild expression of suspicion.

"Here, I've got an idea," the dwarf said, reaching into his coat, where he pulled out a deck of cards, "Let's play a few hands of Diamondback, maybe some Wicked Grace while we're at it. If you can't remember how to play, then at least we'll be social."

"An excellent idea," the Rivaini said, then turned to Hawke and said, "What do you say, Hawke? You in?"

She looked at the deck for a moment, then agreed. Once the game started, it took hardly any explanation at all for her to get into the rhythm of the game. After several hands with Diamondback, they switched to Wicked Grace, taking turns facing each other while they conversed, Hawke mostly just listening to the rogues banter. When they attempted to engage her verbally, her answers were usually short, even a single word. After several hours, a shared late lunch between them, the pair left while Hawke attempted to recuperate from the amount of personal interaction.

By the time she retired that evening, she determined that she was not ensnared by a demon. That meant, however, she would have to be more vigilant against whatever plan her master had crafted for her.


	5. Chapter 5

"A mage shackle?"

"That's what Rivaini said," Varric said to Anders, "I've been lucky enough where I've never had to deal with the slave-trade business, so I've never seen one up close and personal."

"I've heard of them; one of the older Templars would talk about them, say we were lucky the Chantry didn't use them. I never took it seriously - thought they were exaggerating," Anders said, "Would explain a few things though, like why I couldn't sense it."

They, along with Aveline and Merrill, took another curve around the high mountain pass, Merrill leading them in a single file line. To get as much time as they could to investigate, the group had departed early that morning.

When they reached the entrance to the cave, Merrill turned to face the non-mages and said, "We must be cautious. Keep your eyes open. If you find anything unusual or if anything calls to you, do not touch it; get either Anders or me and we'll deal with it."

Anders crossed his arms and glared at her, saying, "No, you'll come to me. If it's a demon, she'll just make a deal with it."

The elf glared back and said, "I am not some reckless child, Anders!"

"Could have fooled me," he quipped.

"Not to get in between your scheduled name-calling, but we are here for a reason," Varric disarmingly, but hesitantly, said, "Any idea what it is we're looking for?"

"A book," Anders listed, "A statue. A mural. Anything, really."

"Just keep an eye open for something that looks out of place or feels like it shouldn't be there," Merrill supplied.

"There's nothing to go on," Aveline noted a little sadly, "How can we find the source when we have no information?"

"That is where we come in," Anders said with a smirk, patting himself on the chest.

They spread themselves through the cave and began their search. No fog obstructed the view and a little morning light streamed into the space. The floor was flat while the rest of the cave looked rough and chiselled. It was a single room, they found, with no alternate openings or passages, in a circular shape with a high dome ceiling. Merrill and Anders felt along the wall on opposite ends, each with their own tiny light glowing from their hand. Varric took a sweeping look around the room and eventually began checking for hidden objects and false doors.

Feeling useless as she stood in the center, a long look around showed Aveline that there was nothing remarkable to be found. There weren't even any plants or fungi growing, that she could see. She looked down at the long shadow that cut the light from behind her in half. Something on the floor in front of her caught her eye for a flash of a second, but when she focused in on the spot, there was nothing. She stared for a few more moments. She was about to write it off as her imagination when happened again; a slight shift in shadow and light, so minute she could have easily missed it. She stared a little longer to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her; it happened again, this time she noticed it over a broader area.

"Merrill," the Guard-Captain called out and the elf turned around, "Could you stand over here for a minute?" She pointed to a space on her left.

"What is it?" the other woman asked while she walked to the spot, light still glowing. Aveline noticed the shadows didn't shift as much with one of the mages practically still. But even with the aid she found she couldn't make heads or tails of what lay before her. Then Merrill got down on her knees and decided to drag her fingers of her free hand across the floor.

"Anders!" she called excitedly, "Aveline found something!"

The other mage turned around from his inspection of the wall, walked over, and said, "Let me see." He crouched down on one knee and traced the impressions in the ground. Quickly he realized what the impressions were - runes. They were shallow and softened along the edges from time, even so the shadows were barely noticeable. The one his finger currently drug along was an ancient Tevene symbol for "window."

Merrill observed out loud, "I think you're standing on Falon'Din." Anders looked around his feet until he noticed the elf was looking at the guardswoman, who shortly after chose to step back towards the entrance and out of the way of the mages.

The sun glazed across the sky while Aveline and Varric stood outside along the cave's entrance, letting the mages trace the sigils. Other than the image of the elven god, every other carving they found was a word or symbol.

The mages were still engrossed by the time the sun began to dip behind the horizon, and Aveline took the initiative to drag them away from their discovery, grabbing Merrill by the arm and pulling her out of the crouching position she'd been holding and pulling her back towards the opening while Anders followed behind. They began to travel back to Kirkwall.

Varric let out a long sigh and asked, "So, boys and girls, what did we learn from this little field trip?"

"Nothing concrete," Anders said, his brows furrowed deeply with thought, "At least not that we didn't already know. The engraving opens the Veil when activated, but really anyone could have guessed that."

"Something to do with travel," Merrill muttered airily, staring up at the lightly clouded sky.

"Merrill, all those sigils were some variation of 'door' and 'window' and 'gate'; where did you get travel?" the other mage pointed out with slight annoyance.

"Falon'Din," she stated, "He guides people in the Beyond."

"Do either of you have any ideas as to what happened to Hawke?" Aveline interjected.

Anders let out a small groan from the back of his throat and, after a bit of thought, said, "There was one time where the Warden and I were trapped in the Fade along with an entire city and it's Baroness. Maybe there's something similar to that - a door to a part of the Fade where human souls are trapped."

"So... you think Hawke is... possessed by a ghost?" Varric concluded.

"In a sense," Anders said, "When I merged with Justice, we became one. If two human souls were to merge, I doubt the process would be as seamless. That might be why she's so confused; her memories probably became jumbled in the process."

"Still doesn't explain the clothes," Merrill muttered, eyes still up at the sky.

"Well I don't hear any better ideas," Anders quipped.

"Do I have to get between you two?" Aveline threatened. Varric's boisterous laughter billowed from his burly chest. It died shortly afterward, leaving a silent group. When they made it to Kirkwall, they parted ways, returning to their respective homes.

* * *

Fenris watched from a seat in the pews as Hawke walked slowly up the aisle in the Chantry, lingering frequently to gaze at the decor or to brush her fingers along the furniture or walls. He could practically see the whispered secrets the walls of this place granted her as she tried to decipher the words. Even up until the confrontation with Varania, he had spent many nights struggling to recall the quiet truths about his sister and his family that lay just outside the realm of his working mind.

"I admit, I had hoped you were exaggerating when you described Hawke's condition to me," his friend Sebastian said, sitting on his right, "I cannot imagine what she must be going through."

"No," Fenris agreed plainly.

A few moments of silence passed by when the Chantry brother turned to his companion and asked softly, "Are you sure we should trust her fate to Anders and Merrill? Should we not inform the Circle of this? Request Orsino's aid?"

"Hawke would not want the Knight-Commander's involvement," Fenris replied.

"Perhaps," the archer said, "However, putting aside our companion's questionable circumstances, the Circle has more resources. Two apostates living rather busy lives could not uncover information very quickly as opposed to a team of mages."

The elf mulled over his friend's words briefly before consenting, "It is something to consider." At that moment, Hawke returned to where the two men were sitting. As she approached, Fenris stood from his seat.

"I'm ready to return to the estate," she said.

Fenris nodded, turned back to the other man, and said, "Until next time, my friend."

"Of course," Sebastian said with a smile, "You know where to find me."

The couple departed in silence, which Fenris left it at, understanding that the woman beside him would be overwhelmed with the sheer number of places they had visited that day beginning in the early morning. They entered her High Town mansion and he walked with her to her room, where she finally started to slouch, and even threw herself into her bed face first, arms spread across the mattress like a bird taking flight. He looked her up and down a few moments before deciding to take his leave.

As he turned around, he heard her slightly muffled voice softly ask, "Can I sleep forever?"

He turned back to regard her from where she laid, unable to tell if she was looking at him or not.

"Sleep as much as you need," he said, "But you will need to wake up some time."

With those words, he left, only wondering afterwards what exactly she was referring to when she asked him.

* * *

_In Another World_

Fenris stood erect by his master's seat while he and his elven apprentice dined at the table. A tall, stained glass window lit the relatively small dining room as the late afternoon sun spilled its light, colors and shadows cutting across various angles.

"I have ensured that a Templar will be stationed outside her cell at all times," Varania announced in regard to Master's concubine.

"Good," Danarius said, "Until I can return her to complacency, she may need to be subdued. Unfortunately, until her new collar arrives, it is unwise to clear her mind again." He took a bite of some green, leafy vegetable on his plate. A tightness formed in Fenris' chest.

"Magister, if I may ask, do you know what happened?" she said as he continued through his meal, "The amount of defiance, the clothes - it's all rather... bizarre."

The master wiped his mouth with a napkin, saying, "Obviously she has had assistance in her rather ineffective method of escape. The shackle she wore was infused with very powerful and complex magic; only a mage who understands how it functions would be able to remove it." He looked rather pointedly at the elf woman and continued on. "I suspect once that was accomplished, she soon had some sort of quarrel with a demon, resulting in her altered memories. During this, her accomplice abandoned her to her fate."

"M-Magister," she choked, her eyes wide and skin suddenly deathly pale, "I was tending to your laboratory - I would never betray you!" Fenris mentally scoffed.

Danarius chuckled darkly and said, "Oh, Varania, you don't get to be a magister by good faith. But relax - if you were uninvolved as you say, you have nothing to worry about."

The master continued his meal while the apprentice more picked at the remaining pieces of her food. Fenris wasn't so sure about his master's assessment of his concubine, though he knew better than to say so aloud. She called herself "Hawke", kept saying "Kirkwall" and a number of other names that seemed just out of reach of his memory, and all of it felt right. "Hawke" didn't quite seem right however - she felt different in a way he couldn't explain.

He made a silent prayer for her, wary and curious of the possibilities that could come.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Anders did when he awoke the next morning was speak to a man from the Mage's Collective, requesting a book on Ancient Tevene or Arlathan sigils. Immediately after that he took a chunk of stale bread to eat and lit the lantern outside his clinic, filling his spare seconds with editing his manifesto. As patients cycled in and out through the day, a courier eventually came letting him know that a book on Ancient Tevene may be available for him in a few days but one on the Arlathan language may take months to procure. He thanked the man and gave him a few health poultices and herbs as payment, then continued his day as normal.

Well into the afternoon, Anders was wrapping a man's hand when Merrill came bursting into his clinic wide-eyed and breathless, nearly popping the door off its hinges in the process, and practically tripping over herself to get to him.

"Anders, I've_ got it_!" she announced.

"Can it wait a few moments? I'm dealing with a patient right now," he said flatly.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I'll just go stand in the back then - but please hurry! I think I've figured it out and I can't just keep it to myself and I-"

"_Merrill_," Anders cut in.

"Right!" she said, "Sorry!" The elf scrambled off to the back and the healer finished bandaging the man. After a few kind words and a light pat on the back, he made his way towards a screen door near the corner and gestured for her to follow. Once they had the illusion of privacy, he sat down on a crate, and looked at her.

"Alright, what's your big idea?" the man asked monotonously.

"I think I figured out what happened to Hawke! Now, this is going to sound a little crazy, but hear me out!" She took a breath and continued, "That's not our Hawke."

Anders mildly confused eyes blinked once, then twice, and said, "Explain this to me."

"Okay," she breathed, "There is another Kirkwall that we can't see - sort of another version of Thedas, really - and that engraving that we found up on Sundermount is a gateway to the other world. When we tried to close the Veil, our magic activated the gateway and sent Hawke to the other Thedas because she was standing on Falon'Din. But to keep some sort of equilibrium, our Thedas still needs a 'Hawke' so this other Hawke was put in her place."

The other mage's eyes widened as he stared at her in silence. He blinked a few times, slowly.

"That," he finally said, "is the most insane collection of turd I have ever heard. _Another Thedas?_ I knew you were crazy, but I didn't realize you were stark-driven mad!"

"Just think about it for a second!" she interjected, "The missing clothes, the collar, the memories, the writing on the floor - it all fits! The spell didn't somehow trade her clothes, she was wearing them in the first place! And she doesn't remember us because she _never met us_!"

"Merrill, there is no such thing as - what is this, mirroring worlds? I've never even heard of such a thing," he said.

"But Anders, possession of any kind only partially explains what happened. And there wasn't a single sort of magic that had anything to do with clothing. I'm not even sure_ that_ exists," she responded.

"Even so, what you're suggesting is absolutely _ludicrous_," he said, standing.

He walked back into the main room of his clinic and called back, "Come find me when you have a less childish theory."

"But..!" Merrill began, but Anders continued on crossing his clinic and began to engage a patient with a rather bad cough. After a few more moments of standing in the back, she exited the clinic without another word.

When she returned to her hovel, she stood in the doorway, glaring at the few books she owned. She had read each of them a dozen times over; not one of them would be helpful. After briefly considering if Hawke's library would hold more helpful books, she shook her head. She slowly wandered into the bedroom and glanced down at the broken mirror piled into a crate in the corner, a hunk of its frame jutting out awkwardly, then turned back around into the main room. After getting a fire started, she chopped a few vegetables, stuck them on a long wooden skewer she had crafted, and roasted them. Once her dinner was cooked, she poured some water into the fireplace and carried her food with her on her way up to Hawke's estate, dining on the way.

When she arrived at her friend's home with a full stomach and empty hands, Bodhan greeted her with a warm smile and welcomed her inside, notifying her that the lady of the house was in the study with a few other guests. She thanked him and went ahead to the room on the left. Inside, Hawke in her red house clothes and Fenris, unarmed but armored, were sitting together on the couch across from the fireplace while Aveline, wearing a faded green linen shirt tucked into a pair of trousers, sat in a chair crooked at an angle from the opposite wall as the guardswoman recounted a tale from her days in the army, the collared mage listening intently while the man eyed her as opposed to the storyteller.

Aveline eventually looked up and announced with raised brows, "Merrill! Well this is a surprise."

"Hello, Aveline," she said awkwardly, "And Fenris. Hawke."

Fenris kept a steady glower in Merrill's direction, barely shifting his head to acknowledge he heard her, jaw firm. Hawke noticed the tension in his muscles and regarded the new visitor with guarded eyes.

Aveline smiled and said, "Hawke, this is Merrill. She's a friend." When Hawke didn't appear to change her demeanor, the redhead added, "Fenris just... doesn't agree with some of the choices she's made."

Hawke regarded Fenris a little more openly in his silence as he turned his gaze from the other elf to an unremarkable spot on the wall, and then she looked Merrill over.

"You are... blood mage?" Hawke hesitated. Merrill looked down at the floor and wrung her hands together.

"I... yes..." the Dalish responded softly. Hawke regarded her a moment longer and then the human nodded.

A few more awkward seconds were drawn out until Aveline looked around the room and said, "Merrill, why don't you have a seat?"

"Umm..." the elven mage glanced around until she found another chair tucked next to the empty fireplace, then looked at Hawke and asked, "Do you mind?" The other woman's expression faltered at that. She sat wide-eyed and unresponsive before clearly collecting herself.

"I, uh... Sure," she eventually mumbled. Merrill smiled then sat in the empty chair, placing her hands in her lap.

"...I admit, I'm not sure where to go from here," the elf girl commented.

"When I introduced myself I asked if there was anything she wanted to know," Aveline said.

"Well alright," Merrill said, then returned her attention to Hawke and asked the suggested question. The noble looked at her for a short while.

"Does this mean anything?" Hawke asked, pointing to her own forehead.

So Merrill spoke about the Dalish - about vallaslin and the sacred ritual surrounding it, about their gods - and Hawke listened in rapt fascination. At some point Aveline said her goodbyes and Merrill kept telling stories and history as best she could; the other woman didn't ask much, but her eyes craved for more, and the elf girl couldn't deny the unspoken plea.

Eventually she pulled away from her narrative and said, "I, ah, would like to ask you a few things if that's alright."

"What sort of things?" Hawke responded.

"I just... want to know how you're adjusting," Merrill replied.

Hawke paused, then nodded.

"Alright, umm..." the elven girl began. She turned her gaze to her hands as she thought of her first question, then looked up and asked, "Do you feel like you belong here?"

The noble didn't respond, but her mask slammed up.

"Does... everything feel right to you?" Merrill tried to press, "Are there things missing? Someone that should be here or maybe someone shouldn't? Or maybe the city itself is wrong?"

Again, there was no response beyond being scrutinized under careful eyes; the icicle gaze made Merrill shudder. Eventually, the Dalish stood up and said her goodbyes to her friend and her friend's lover and departed through the front door, quickly making her way down to her home in the moonlit Kirkwall.

Hawke continued to sit in the couch long after Merrill had left, Fenris beside her in silence.

Eventually, he stood and said, "You should consider getting some rest as well."

"I should," she admitted distantly. After a few more seconds, she stood as well, and he walked with her to her chambers. Once inside, she hesitated by the side of the bed while he stood in the doorway respectfully. She looked at him, then at the bed, frowning.

"I don't know if I will be able to sleep," she said.

"This has been rather overwhelming," he noted. Her gaze avoided him, lingering between the bed and the floor. The elf glanced around awkwardly and spotted a book on her table. He walked over and picked it up, reading the title to himself: _The Friar and the Huntsman_. Then he walked slowly up to Hawke and held the book between them. Her gaze caught onto the leather binding, and moved on to his face. His eyes moved back down to the cover for a moment, then returned to meet her eyes, his own open and vulnerable. She looked back down at the cover and placed her hand on the engraved title, then accepted his offering. She sat down on the bed, lying against the headboard, while he took off the metal parts of his armor. Then he crawled up next to her and curled his head against her shoulder so he could catch a few written words while he listened to her voice.

"Good friar Hedric opened the window that morning at the bells' chime..." she began, the tale already familiar to her companion. After several pages, he curled in closer, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. By the end of the fifth chapter, her throat was sore and her mind numb, and Fenris drifted closer to sleep, his head resting upon her breast and an arm cast around her waist with his legs slightly tucked. She slowly put the book down next to her and allowed her eyes to close just for a moment.

When she next opened her eyes, there was a pitcher of water and a filled glass next to her bed, in which she found herself alone. Her back was flat against the mattress and the covers were tucked up under her chin. The curtains were pulled, blocking the weak morning light from invading unpleasantly. She sat up and gulped down the water, belatedly remembering to slow down before she filled the glass a second time and taking measured sips. When she was done she changed into a clean set of robes and went downstairs and accepted the breakfast of poached eggs and berries from Bodhan.

Eventually she went back upstairs and stood in front of the room tucked by the steps. There was a painting of a woman on one side and a wooden door, the handle of which had collected dust from years of neglect. Standing, staring, as if it held a great forbidden secret, hurt.

She pulled a hand up and reached for the knob, brushing her fingers against it briefly, then she turned away.

* * *

_In Another World_

Hawke sat with her back against the stained stone wall, elbows resting on her semi-drawn knees, engaged in an unsanctioned staring contest with her Templar guard, leaning against the bars of an empty cell with his arms crossed. Before she was shoved in the cell, she had been stripped, all her magical and personal items confiscated, and given a linen gown for modesty's sake.

When she, Merrill, and Anders attempted to close the rip in the Fade, there was a freakish sense of disorientation before she found herself dropped on an enormous bed in a mansion she had never been in before, and after that everything went topsy-turvy and up on its head. Danarius was alive, Fenris was a slave, and she was locked away after she set fire to a guard who attempted to force her back into the bedroom.

Whatever sort of freakish thing was going on, this wasn't the Fade - she knew that much.

Somehow she needed to break out, grab Fenris, and run, but she couldn't just fireball a Templar. Perhaps she could use her Force magic to knock the keys to her - no, that would immediately gather some attention. Using Force magic on a keyhole would just make it explode. She could create a distraction with Force magic - if she did it right, her guard may mistake it for a trespasser. - but that still left the issue of how to get out.

She needed help - she needed Fenris.

He barely remembered her; when she tried to get him to leave his big eyes looked so lost as if trapped in a labyrinthe, one that only got worse the more she talked. Simply asking for help could be disastrous. If she could somehow show him that he was not helpless, that there was something that he had that his so-called master neither knew about nor could take away, they might stand a chance.

…

She knew what to do.


	7. Chapter 7

A small messenger boy came to the barracks early that day demanding to see the captain of the guard. After a small fuss the boy raised from a few guardsmen denying the scraggy child entry, Brennan took the his notice to Aveline and sent him away with a few spare coins. She entered the captain's office and stood at attention along with a short greeting.

"At ease," Aveline said, quickly finishing her signature at the bottom of the paper. A moment later she pulled her gaze up from the parchment and placed her pen down in a nearby inkwell. Brennan took a few steps forward and placed the notice on her desk. The captain stared at it.

"What's this?" the redhead asked.

Brennan shrugged and said, "Dunno. Kid wanted this brought to you. Said it was important."

"Do you know who it was from?" her superior asked.

"He didn't say," she replied.

Aveline frowned slightly, then picked up the rolled up paper, opened it, and scanned over its contents. Satisfied, she nodded.

"Thank you, Brennan. You are dismissed. And send my husband to me if you see him," issued the captain. The subordinate stood at attention and left the room.

Aveline informed Donnic that she would be home late and, that evening when she usually left the barracks, went straight to the Hanged Man. When she arrived, she walked up the stairs to Varric's suite where he, Isabela, Anders, and Merrill were already seated and waiting. She sat down with the others and waited as well. Sebastian came as well after several minutes, and finally Fenris a while after that.

"Where's Hawke?" Sebastian asked while Varric ordered a round of ale.

"She did not wish to attend," Fenris stated.

"This is about her - she should be here," Aveline said.

"I'd rather not," Varric grumbled, "It would be real awkward, especially for me. I'm not so tactless to make her sit in a meeting about how we're going to 'fix' her."

Anders shrugged and said, "Either way, we're here, she's not. Let's get this meeting underway, shall we?"

"Right," the dwarf mumbled, then spoke up, "I don't know how many of you have been paying attention but Hawke has been outside the political sphere for a few days now. By now the nobility's kind of used to her just disappearing for a day or two, but soon people will start asking questions and, honestly, I have no idea how to answer them."

"Say she's sick," Isabela shrugged, "It's true enough."

"That won't work forever," Anders commented.

"Do we have to hide it, though?" Merrill piped up.

"I agree," Aveline interjected, "This should be taken to the Circle."

Hands slapping the table, Anders announced, "Absolutely not!"

"Aveline raises a valid point, Anders," Sebastian said to placate him, "This issue will become noticeable within days. Lying may do more to hinder Hawke's recovery than aid it."

"Have you seen the Knight-Commander lately?" Anders challenged, "She's insane! If she found out Hawke might be possessed, she'd have Kirkwall's Champion beheaded on principle!"

"Then you and Merrill will take care of this alone?" Aveline pressed, "You run a clinic, and I know you're involved with the Mage Underground, on top of that bloody manifesto I keep finding in my office - which is harassment, by the way. How do you suppose that your efforts will be better than if the Circle were to investigate?"

"Meredith has been losing a few marbles for years now, you have to admit," Isabela commented.

"Meredith is concerned, and rightly so considering the number of maleficar that we have run into alone," Sebastian said calmly.

"I don't know much about this magic business, and I don't like to get involved in these kinds of conversations, but out of respect to the person who isn't here I don't think Hawke would want Meredith or Orsino in her business," Varric muttered.

"We're not even certain if Hawke is possesed," Merrill said, "Can we really trust the Circle with this sort of doubt?"

Anders rolled his eyes.

"Whether or not you believe me, Anders, the fact is we really don't know anything," the elf defended, "We've made a lot of assumptions based on what we can see, but in this case it's not the same."

"Alright, I missed something," Varric interjected.

"Merrill came down to my clinic the other day with the most inane idea I've ever heard," Anders supplied.

"What is it?" Aveline asked.

Merrill explained her theory to everyone at the table.

After a few moments, Sebastian coughed and said, "It's... a unique concept."

"That's really interesting, actually," Isabela commented, leaning against her hand with her elbow propped on the table.

Fenris snorted.

Everyone turned to look at the other elf, who was curled around himself and holding his sides with his shoulders shaking. Another second and a few short chuckles escaped from his lips, and shortly after laughter burst from his mouth and filled the room. He threw his upper body backwards against the chair, head tossed over the edge of his seat. Still laughing, he drew his right hand up and covered his eyes and nose with the stretched palm and fingers. A minute passed before his hearty laugh faltered into chuckles, and another minute until he calmed down, smile still slapped on his face.

"Well well, he does have a sense of humor," Anders muttered in mild astonishment.

"So... How do we figure out... Is that possible?" Aveline said, holding her head.

"It isn't," Anders stated, "Hawke has not been swept away to some mythical Thedas and replaced by a doppelganger - that's utterly nonsensical."

"I don't understand any of this," Varric muttered, burying his face in his upturned fists.

Sebastian cleared his throat and inquired, "About how long do you think it would take for you to find the root cause of Hawke's situation, Anders?"

The human mage blinked and fell silent for a few moments. None of the others interrupted the quiet, the babble of the Hanged Man's crowd from below and the sighs of a pair of lovers next door barely breaching the walls of the suite. Then Anders eyes snapped up to Sebastian.

"Give me one month," the mage said, "If I cannot find a solid explanation for Hawke's situation, I will not stop you from seeking the Circle's aid. But if anything should happen to her, it will be on your head."

Sebastian smiled, nodded, and replied, "Thank you Anders."

Anders nodded back.

"We should work together," Merrill said, "I could go back to Sundermount and study the runes some more."

"If you do, try bringing back some impressions of the engravings," Anders instructed, "Fenris seems to be the only one capable of getting more than six words out of her. Fenris-" the other elf looked at the blond, "See if you can get her to talk about her memories; perhaps they'll provide us with some sort of clue."

"I can do that," the tattooed elf said with a shrug.

"In the meantime, I'll look into that collar," Anders continued, "I've been meaning to for a while now."

"I suppose that means I'm going to have to keep the nobility from poking their nose where it doesn't belong," Varric said, "Though I still have no idea what I'm going to say."

"Oh, you'll think of something, Varric," Merrill smiled, "You're very good at telling stories."

"My family has a small hunting lodge in the Starkhaven countryside," Sebastian offered, "Perhaps she could be escorted there to make things more believable."

Fenris shook his head and said, "No. Relocating her will do nothing for her memory."

"What about bringing her to her home town?" Isabela asked.

"No good," Aveline responded, "The darkspawn decimated Lothering. Even if it was being rebuilt, it wouldn't be the same."

"I can't help her if she isn't here anyhow," Anders said, "I still have a clinic to run."

"Has anyone talked to Carver yet?" Merrill interrupted suddenly. A few of the others glanced around.

"Maker, I feel like an ass," Aveline muttered, "How could we forget her brother?"

"He's a Templar," Anders pointed out flatly, "Tell him and we may as well be reporting to Meredith."

"But she's family," the elf girl insisted.

"And he has sworn an oath to his order," the human mage countered.

Sebastian sighed and said, "Merrill, I see where you're coming from, but Anders does have a point. Even if he were not to share this with his superiors, hiding such information… could become problematic for him. For now, perhaps it would be best to keep him uninvolved."

The group continued speaking and debating for a few hours, often cycling back to the original topic, most hardly touching their drinks when a round of ale was eventually ordered. Anders was the first to excuse himself, leaving his half-empty pint on the table as he darted back to the sewers. Shortly after, Aveline gulped down the remained or her drink and left to return home, then Sebastian. Fenris eventually excused himself as well. Isabela stood from her seat and walked around the table to Merrill then patted the elf girl's back.

"Don't worry about what those boys think," the pirate said.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine," the mage replied with a smile.

"Bullshit," the human said, "You were ready to deck Fenris; I could tell." Merrill just chuckled awkwardly. After a few minutes, the elf said her goodbyes and returned to her little home. She took a few blankets and packed up papers, books, food, and other necessities, wrapping said blankets around them and using it as a bag. By the time she set out, the sun was beginning to set, sending orange and violet across the lightly clouded sky.

At Hawke's mansion, she and Fenris lounged on her bed.

"Has it always been so quiet?" she eventually whispered. He shifted so he could look up at her face while she gazed distantly at the door.

"I suppose there was a bit more activity when your mother was alive," he confessed a bit awkwardly.

Her head turned to the far right corner and she asked, "That's her room over there, isn't it."

He grunted in confirmation.

A few more moments and she said, "Do you think there should be music playing?"

"What for?" Fenris furrowed his brows.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "The house just feels so... empty."

He reached to touch her hand and wrapped his long fingers around her palm. She looked down into his eyes in response and he saw a warmth that he had not basked in in days. He wanted to kiss her hand, but settled on stroking it with his thumb so he did not startle her back into her self-imposed cage.

"How are your memories?" he asked.

Her eyes fluttered upward and to the side as her mind reached to gather the bits of information she had and said, "Well enough, all things considered."

"Has there been anything that seems more defined?" he continued.

"There was... Something. In the keep, there was... A large man... And a crowd... And you were there... And a lot of running," she said.

"You must be speaking of the duel with the Arishok. Though I do not recall being present," he said.

"I fought the Arishok?" her mouth dropped.

"And won. Though it was a close call," he confirmed.

They lounged together in silence after that. As Fenris was enjoying the affection in peace, he decided that further questions about her mind could wait a day or so. She was overwhelmed enough and continuous probing of the subject may make her feel pressured to remember whether or not the thing her mind told her was true. As well, asking about her memories as a slave could prove to be too raw, real or not.

"I would like to visit Anders tomorrow," she broke the silence.

"You were rather vehement when he tried to examine you before. What changed?" he noted with a slightly raised brow.

"...I haven't been feeling well," she chose.

He regarded her a moment then grunted with a brief nod. A while longer they laid together, not watching the windows or bothering to draw the curtains. It was dark enough outside that her room needed a few candles, but still neither grew out of their lethargy to gather and light some. He watched her silhouette from where he was on the bed, just close enough to border a lover's affection and a man's respect. She was still to the point where he could no longer tell if she were awake or asleep. Eventually, he shifted and pushed himself up from the bed, planting his feet on the ground.

"Will you stay?" her voice spoke softly behind him.

He turned back around, crawled back to and leaned over her, pressed his pursed lips against her forehead, and whispered, "As long as you shall have me." A second time he moved away and stood, then wandered over to one of the wardrobes, quickly undressing and grabbing one of her sleeping gowns from its collection. She snickered.

"Go ahead and laugh," he said plainly. The room was filled with silence again. After a moment he returned to bed and tucked himself under the covers, Hawke following his lead. When they were both comfortable and facing each other, he took her hand in his and held it, placing their hands between their faces on the pillow, and she held in return just a little more firmly.

* * *

_In Another World_

Fenris followed his master down the steps into the dungeon, three paces behind and on his left, checking on his disobedient property as was routine. First he stopped in front of the cage of an elven boy caught stealing food before it reached the master's table. After being properly chastised, the guard reported that the boy would be ready for release by the nightly cleaning duty, provided he behaved appropriately. The only other person locked away at the moment was the concubine, and they soon passed by a few cages, cells, and a torture chamber while crossing to the other end of the dungeon where she stayed.

When they reached the cell, Danarius spoke to the Templar guard standing watch over her. She was leaning her weight against the metal bars, watching the three of them in silence. He permitted himself the indulgence of letting his gaze to linger on her a moment longer than necessary before turning his back to her in his place at his master's side. As the two other men spoke, he felt something soft tickle the inside of his fingers.

The Templar guard's eyes snapped to a spot behind Fenris.

"Stop!" the guardsman announced, stepping forward and reaching out. He grabbed a hold of something behind Fenris, who swirled around to see the first man snatch the woman's wrist in the air. In her hand was a slip of linen charred along one curved side and slender burnt-out lines that carved out his name, which the guard ripped from her grasp. The shred of cloth was placed in Danarius' open palm, who scarcely glanced at it.

The magister smiled slightly and said, "If you believe a slave can read, then you are truly foolish." Fenris' eyes widened for a brief moment.

"I swear, Danarius," she spat his name like poison sucked from an open wound, "as soon as I get out of here, I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill me?" Danarius mocked, "Dear, you've already tried that once before. One ought not to make idle threats, particularly in your position." He tucked the strip away and said, "Now I have more pressing duties to attend to; but don't worry my dear - your turn will come soon enough."

Just as the magister turned to leave, Fenris came up close to the bars, dropping the guard in his eyes before her but speaking in a low and menacing whisper, "I will be watching you."

She did not smile, but her eyes reflected a firm determination and trust when she replied softly, "Well I hope you like the view."

Though he was not expecting a response like that from her, he quickly recovered his mask and slipped into his place at his master's side, three paces back and on the left side.


End file.
